Swords of Exodus

by Larry Correia

  “You knew Bob?” I asked, suspicious as always.

  “From the FBI.” Anders paused, knowing he’d said too much. “Hell with it. He was a field agent when I was HRT, Hostage Rescue Team, before being recruited by Majestic, at least. I’d heard about his meddling in Majestic’s business, lots of us had. So I figured why he was here right away. That optimistic bastard probably thought he could flip me. Offer witness protection.” Anders gave a bitter laugh. “But his poking around spooked Jihan. The Pale Man’s soldiers took him before we could meet.”

  “And you were going to tell him about Blue? Let him expose Majestic?”

  “Why not? I figured they wanted me dead,” Anders stated flatly. “Fuck ‘em.”

  “So what is Blue?”

  He took forever to respond, weighing his response first. “I was going to tell you, but now things have changed.”

  So the nature of Blue was to remain a mystery. Fine. That was Bob’s deal, not mine. “I’m assuming there’s a reason I’m here . . .”

  “We share a common goal.”

  “And why should I believe that?”

  “Because we have a mutual enemy in Sala Jihan.” Katarina’s voice echoed across the open space. I didn’t hear her join us on the balcony. She still moved like a ninja. Kat had wrapped a giant fur coat around her earlier skimpy outfit. She didn’t look particularly happy, which told me that Jill was still alive. Kat smiled. If a cobra could smile, that’s what it’d look like, and I wasn’t falling for it. “The Montalban brothers are dead, the easternmost Illuminati family is in shambles. The remains of their kingdom picked over by scavengers like me, while the other twelve divide up their international spoils. The only thing that stands in the way of me taking back their old glory is control of this place, which means Sala Jihan must die.”

  “Not my fight, Kat. I’m done with the whole crime war thing. Congrats on the criminal empire, though. You always were better at this stuff than I was.”

  “Au contraire. This is your fight. Jihan has your brother, so by your own admission, you plan on killing him. My spies know all about Exodus. They also want to see Jihan dead, but they would never work with me.”

  “And I can’t rightly say that I blame them.”

  “You are to be our introduction to Exodus. They will not trust me, but you, they respect for some reason. I want you to act as our intermediary. Alone, he is too strong for any of us to take. Between all of us, Jihan will fall. Exodus frees their slaves. You get your brother back. And I control The Crossroads.”

  “Sounds like a win-win situation,” Anders stated.

  Kat gave me her most innocent look. “An introduction. That is all I ask.”

  “The only word I have about who really took Bob is from you and Exodus, and frankly, you’re both less trustworthy than the crabs on a five-dollar hooker.”

  Anders glanced at Katarina. She nodded, giving him the go ahead. He turned toward me. “There’s a work crew of slaves here in town. They serve Jihan’s garrison and the Brothers. If we were to free them, I know for a fact that one of them would be able to confirm that Bob was present in Jihan’s prison cells.” Anders pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to me.

  I caught it. It was a large coin, one of those military challenge coins that soldiers carried with their unit insignias and slogans on it. This one had been partially smashed, as if by a hammer. The first side was the Army Special Forces logo, 1st battalion, 19th group, with De Oppresso Liber, To Free the Oppressed, underneath. The other side was an ODA number that started with 92, but the last number had been crushed. It didn’t matter, I knew it. I had seen that same logo on one of the plaques in Bob’s basement, from my brother’s old National Guard unit.

  “That came from one of the slaves at the garrison. Dumb shit tried to spend it at a local shop after the Brothers sent him on an errand. You get one guess where he got it from.” Anders said.

  I was quiet while the deadly duo studied me. I absently bounced the coin in my palm. This was the first indication that I was on the right path.

  “Partners again?” Kat asked.

  No way in hell. But unless Ibrahim had an army, I didn’t see how were going to get into Jihan’s compound. We were going to need every bit of firepower we could muster. However, I needed to find out if they were telling me the truth, because I was mighty sick of being lied to. I spun the coin between my fingers before dropping it in my pocket. “Let’s go free us a slave.”

  LORENZO

  “You were kissing her!” Jill shouted.

  “No.” I held up my hands, partially to look innocent, partly to block anything she might throw at me. “She kissed me. I was an unwilling participant.”

  Jill’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “Yeah, real unwilling!”

  We were in the Montalbans’ guest quarters. The room was actually nicer than our accommodations at the Glorious Cloud, but there were no windows, and the only exit led into a long hallway with guards posted on each end. We were only guests in the loosest interpretation of the word.

  “I just sat there,” I answered, keeping my voice level. “I told you what happened. Okay, damn it, what should I have done then? And give me an honest answer that doesn’t involve her skinning us alive.”

  Jill folded her arms tightly across her chest and scowled at me. She had a fiery temper, but she also knew that I was right. “I don’t know!”

  “Well, why are you still yelling at me?” I pleaded.

  “Because you suck,” she answered.

  I clenched my teeth to keep from saying something stupid. I gave it a moment before trying again. “Okay, then, as long as you’re being rational about it . . .”

  Jill sat on the bed, deflated, or just tired of being mad. “I don’t trust her.”

  “No kidding? Jill, listen to me. There is nothing that Katarina won’t do. She’s a bona-fide sociopath. Trust her? Of course not. But I’m not seeing much choice. Either we work with them, or they kill us.” I put my finger over my lips, and pointed toward the ceiling, to indicate that it was possible our room was bugged. Jill nodded. She knew there were other choices, but nothing that I wanted Kat to know I was pondering on. “I’m going with Anders to grab this slave. If I get confirmation that Bob is, or was, in that brig, then I’ll arrange a meeting with Exodus.”

  Jill stood awkwardly, and hugged me close. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have come.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she answered, before leaning in, and whispering into my good ear. “Did you love her?”

  I paused, uncomfortable, with the love of my life in my arms. Best to tell the truth. “Yes . . . once.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Because she brought out the worst in me.” And I thought of a nightmare with an old Malaysian woman screaming murderer over and over while her crone finger stabbed through my heart. I kissed Jill softly. “You bring out my best.” I pushed a note into her hand. It was information for her to sneak to Reaper.

  There was a heavy knock at the door. It was time.

  Anders was waiting for me in the hall. He handed me a canvas backpack. Inside was my pistol, suppressor, spare magazines, holster, and knives. “Don’t get stupid,” he suggested. “Your woman and the kid are in our care.”

  “Me? Stupid? Never. Let’s go.”

  “Here, put this on,” Anders passed me a surplus Russian army coat. It was heavy and a little bit too big, which worked out well since I was wearing a Spetsnaz armored vest underneath. “There will be a couple of goons. Take them fast.”

  “Aren’t they slaves too? What are the odds of them putting up a fight?” I rocked and locked an orange bakelite magazine into the AKSU-74 he had given me. The weapon was short, stubby, and at the ranges we were going to be at, incredibly effective.

  He shook his head. “They’ll fight, I promise. Jihan brainwashes them. His soldiers only stop
when you put them down.” He pulled back the charging handle on his Saiga 12K, chambering a round. “Everybody knows the garrison buys supplies here, and they always pay in gold. We’re a couple of toughs looking to make a buck, got it? How’s your Russian?”

  “Excellent.”

  “I do okay. Act Russian.”

  We were going in hard and fast. Anders had led me through a series of alleys and shadowed paths. We were now in the back room of a Montalban Exchange trade house, watching through the dust coated windows. The building we had under surveillance was a two-story, wooden construct, with no ornamentation and very rudimentary signage proclaiming it as a seller of foodstuffs.

  I didn’t like going in without a plan, but Anders had been doing his homework. He glanced at his watch, one of those giant black things with every kind of dial and display known to man, waterproof down to the Titanic. “The house slave usually goes shopping for the garrison around three. He normally has two soldiers with him. If they’re buying a lot, then there will be another slave to help carry it back. He’s the garrison cook, and they let him pick his own produce. He tried to pass Bob’s coin one day while his guards weren’t paying attention to get himself a little something.”

  “What about the Brothers?”

  “I’ve got a distraction in place. When I call it in, some Uyghur separatists are going to firebomb one of the PLA stations south of town. Those guys all hate each other, so that was easy enough to arrange. That’s the kind of thing that will draw those hooded bastards right in. We give them a minute to swarm over there, then we hit.”

  “So, why’s everybody so scared of the Brothers?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Because they’re badass motherfuckers. The most we’ve ever seen in town at once is three, so hopefully they’ll all head toward the bombing.”

  “What do we do if one shows up here?” I retracted the bolt on the stubby AK, and let it fly forward, chambering a green lacquered 5.45 round.

  “Kill him,” he answered like I was stupid. “They’re tough, but they’re not bulletproof. Then run. They pin us down, we’re dead. If I die, Kat will assume you did it. If they catch you, and you say a word about Montalban involvement, you know she’ll feed your girl to the hogs. If you’re really lucky she’ll put a bullet in her head first.”

  “Kat’s a big softie like that,” I muttered, watching the street. I was wearing a green knit ski mask, rolled up on my head like a hat. “She’s all heart.”

  “She’s the devil’s concubine,” Anders said. “But she’s great in the sack.”

  I turned away from the street, and studied the former G-man. “You’re banging Kat, huh? Tapping the crazy?”

  “Yeah. Job perk. Jealous?”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me. Kat always had liked to cement her working relationships with a little bit of lust. “Hell no. Been there, done that. Literally. Doing it with a sack of angry porcupines would be safer.”

  Anders scowled.

  I grinned viciously, looking up at the big operative. “But hey, who’d have thought we’d be belly buddies? Small world, hey?”

  Anders fumed. I could tell he was contemplating just shooting me on the spot. My hands tightened around the stubby Kalashnikov in my hands. I silently dared him to make a move.

  Something caught his attention then. He nodded toward the window. “They’re here.”

  A thin man was walking up the front steps of the shop across the street. He was dressed in rough clothes, and flanked by two soldiers wearing snow camo. The soldiers were in their late teens, if that. Both were armed with AK47s. All three men had brutal burn scars across their faces. They disappeared into the building.

  Anders pulled a radio out of his pocket, already set to a predetermined channel, and hit the transmit button three times. Then we waited. I could feel the adrenaline begin to flow. I took long, deep breaths. There were several thumps, and in the distance a black cloud rolled up over the horizon. One of the soldiers ran back onto the porch and watched the rising smoke. We gave it a few minutes to sink in, hoping that most of the garrison strength, and especially the Brothers, would head toward the burning PLA station like moths to a flame.

  Anders pulled down his mask, hiding his face. I did the same, rolling my eyes when I saw the skull painted on the outside of his mask. “Remember, no English,” he said. “Act Russian.” He jerked opened the door.

  We were moving. I was only a few feet behind Anders’ towering form. The street was crowded with armed men, like everywhere in The Crossroads, but now everyone was looking toward the distant explosion. Jihan’s soldier was standing at the bottom of the steps, his AK at port arms, watching the commotion like everyone else. Anders threaded his way through the people, remarkably smooth for such a big man. The slave soldier never saw him coming.

  Anders’ shotgun had a steel folding stock. It impacted the soldier’s cranium with a sound like an aluminum bat driving a home run ball over the fence. The man crumpled in a heap, but Anders was already well past. His giant combat boot impacted the door, and the frame exploded in a cloud of splinters.

  We had talked about this beforehand. He buttonhooked hard right, I went left. The main room was open, just tables of local and imported vegetables. The foodie in me marveled at the remarkable selection for this time of year. Everything you could possibly want to feed a hungry criminal underworld. “Nobody move!” Anders ordered in Russian. A young man, dressed in the manner of the Triads, started to get indignant, but Anders kicked him brutally hard in the groin and just kept going.

  “On the floor!” I shouted at the shoppers. Even if they didn’t understand the language, my tone, combined with the rifle muzzle in their faces, got the point across. There were three people in front of me. None of them were who I was looking for. They complied with my orders and laid down. One Chinese man in an apron began to shout angrily about how he had paid his protection money already.

  I didn’t glance toward Anders. In an operation like this, each shooter had an area to cover. Leave your area uncontrolled to scan your partner’s and you were dead in an instant.

  Anders’ shotgun belched thunder. A table of weird, pointy fruit exploded in yellow pulp. Something moved behind it, crouched low. The other soldier. A third blast of buckshot blasted through the wood and food. Jihan’s man was still moving. He came up, swinging his AK, already depressing the trigger, and firing wildly around the shop. My Krink was set to semi-auto. I focused on the front sight, already on the soldier’s chest, and stroked the trigger three times fast. He jerked as bullets tumbled through his heart and lungs. The top of his head disappeared in a red blur as Anders found him.

  “I said, everybody get on the damned floor!” I bellowed, in Russian, over the ringing in my good ear. “Where’s the slave?”

  “Over here,” Anders called. The slave was on the ground covering his head with his hands. Anders bent down, grabbed him by the neck, and dragged him to his knees. “Talk to him quick.”

  My partner stepped back, scanning the room for further threats. I squatted before the shaking slave. He was confused, his eyes wide, bits of fruit splattered all over his scarred face. “Hey, look at me. Hey!” I slapped him once. That got his attention. I pulled the challenge coin out of my pocket and held it in front of his eyes. “Where did you get this?”

  “I not know!”

  “Where?”

  “I not seen it,” he sputtered, in bad Russian.

  I slapped him again, hard enough to sting my hand through my glove. “Liar!”

  Believe me, being a jerk to a man that had spent a good chunk of his life in slavery felt just as bad as you can imagine. I despise slavers. But I needed info, and I needed it now, and there was no way we were going to carry him out of here without getting caught. I had told myself that this was for the greater good, because if it helped end Jihan’s reign, then it was freedom for thousands, and not just this one.

  Anders stomped to the front door, and scanned down the street, obviously
impatient. “More coming.” He stepped back toward us, glanced around to make sure everyone else’s head was still down, then lifted up his face mask. The slave looked startled, like he recognized him. “Clock’s ticking.”

  “Yes, yes! I seen coin. Took from white man. Big white man. American. No hair. No hair.” He rubbed his hands over his skull. “Please, no kill me.”

  “Is the American still alive?”

  Now he appeared really scared, his eyes so wide that they appeared ready to pop out, but he looked hopefully toward Anders, almost as if he was asking permission. “Yes, alive, in master’s dungeon. In fort. In Pale Man’s fort.” Once he had gotten past implicating his master, he seemed to decompress, to almost melt down, like he had gotten past the hard part. “Now you let me free? You take me away?” He pleaded toward Anders, tears of relief in his eyes.

  BOOM.

  I flinched as blood splattered across my face. Anders lowered his smoking shotgun as the slave thudded lifelessly to the floor.

  “What the hell!” I leapt up, shocked.

  “He saw my face,” Anders stated as he rolled his mask back down. He reached down and took the leather bag filled with coins that would have bought supplies for Jihan’s garrison. Now it was just a robbery. “Move. Out the back.” He gestured toward the rear of the room, then he was gone.

  I stared at the body for a moment as I wiped the blood from my eyes with the back of one gloved hand. Then I followed.

  Just like the old days.

  We dumped the masks, coats, vests, and long guns in the alley behind the vegetable shop, then walked nonchalantly through the rambling streets back toward the Montalban Exchange. Anders had the audacity to be hungry, and stopped at a noodle cart. “You ever try this stuff? It’s probably made from cats and dogs, but it’s pretty good.”